A Girl Called Margaret
by a-bit-dolally
Summary: John asked the impossible for Sherlock. Babysitting Rosamund by himself. All is going well until Rosie starts crying and Sherlock begins to panic. Without a second though, he calls Molly Hooper. But is she all that she appears to be? Teen!Lock.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock, you will be fine." John reassured Sherlock who was shaking his head.  
"No, no I won't. I was not made for babysitting. Do I seem like a babysitting person?" Sherlock crossed his arms  
"It's just for one night. It won't be that hard." John lied. Taking care of a baby seemed to be the most impossible thing for Sherlock to be capable of but he was the only person available. Mrs Hudson had gone away on holiday to visit her friend in Aberdeen and their usual babysitting had unfortunately come down with a stomach bug. All of their other friends were busy at work or already had plans.  
Sherlock shook his head, "There is no way that I will be taking care of Rosie."

A FEW HOURS LATER...

"Okay, so the bottles are in the fridge, I prepared them just before you came, and the nappies are –" John began to explain  
"I know," Sherlock interrupted, "it's the fifth time you've told me."  
"But-"  
"No buts, the cab is already here and the driver is getting impatient." John looked at her baby asleep in the cot and calculated how long it would be until Sherlock would call them to come back. Not too long then, she'll be fine he thought.  
"I'll be okay…at least I'm 80% sure."Sherlock added.  
John sighed, "I don't know. It's not you. It's Rosie I'm worried about." He put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder, "I'm not going to lie. Tonight is going to be difficult, you've never looked after her by yourself." A beep come from outside,  
"Go on," Sherlock said gently steering John out of the flat, "Your work do won't wait for you.". As the cab drove away, only then did it hit Sherlock. Why the hell did John manage to convince him to take care of an infant? He turned to look at the sleeping baby in John's bedroom.  
"It'll be fine," Sherlock told himself, "She's asleep." He looked at the clock, 8.30 pm "Only five hours to go, I'm sure he'll be back early tomorrow morning."

Just as Sherlock sat down to read 'Murder on the Orient Express' (he loved reading crime novels, it entertained him knowing who the killer was long before the book finished) a crying noise broke the silence. "Bugger," he muttered. He placed the book down and went over to Rosie's cot picked her up, holding her at arms length. "What this fuss about?" He asked her as she wailed. Suddenly, a wave of panic washed over him, _Oh my God, what there's something wrong with her? I don't know what to do with a baby? How should I know? I can't call John. He'll think I'm incompetent of just babysitting a child_ , he thought worriedly, _What if she's ill? What the hell do I do? I can't look after a baby by myself._ He walked quickly into the kitchen and placed Georgia in her high chair before whipping his mobile out of his pocket and without thinking, he dialed Molly's number. They had put the 'I love you' incident behind them (at Molly's request, she claimed that she didn't want their relationship to be affected by those three words)  
"Hi Sherlock, what's up?" Molly asked as soon as she picked up  
"Can you help me? It's rather important-"  
"I've just gotten home so don't bother asking for body parts, it's a Friday and I'm tired." She paused, "Is that a baby crying?"  
"Uh, yes it is. Please can you help me? I have no idea what to do." Sherlock replied desperately, "It's Rosie and she won't stop crying."  
Molly grabbed her coat, "I'm coming right now."

Sherlock tapped his foot impatiently, Hurry up Molly he thought annoyed. was still crying when Molly knocked on the door. "Thank you so much." Sherlock said gratefully.  
"You're welcome, where's the baby?" Molly asked pushing past Sherlock  
"In there," Sherlock replied pointing to the kitchen.  
"Hey bubba," Molly cooed to the wailing child, "What's Uncle Sherlock done now?"  
"What?!" Sherlock protested, "I haven't done anything."  
Molly picked up Rosie and checked her. Molly then turned to look at Sherlock, "That's exactly why she's crying. She's hungry. Where's the bottle?"  
"It's in the fridge."  
"Well don't just stand there like an idiot, go get it." Molly instructed him, holding Rosie closed to her making shushing noises, "It's okay, don't cry." Sherlock held out the bottle to her, "Hey, I'm not doing everything for you, you need to learn." Molly told Sherlock, "Put some warm water in a bowl and then put the bottle in it."  
"Can I take it out now?" Sherlock asked Molly after a few minutes. Molly had managed to calm down Rosie who was still grizzling.  
"Is it room temperature?"  
"How should I know?"  
"Put a drop on your wrist and see how hot it is." Molly told him, "Is it too hot or cold?"  
"No, it seems about right." Sherlock replied  
"Good, now give it here. I think you've let Rosie wait for a bit too long." Molly looked back down at the baby, "Isn't that right? You're starving aren't you." Sherlock passed her the bottle and watched as Molly feed the baby.  
"Can I try feed her?" he asked after a few seconds.  
"Sure. Be careful though. Don't drop her"  
Sherlock rolled his eyes, "As much as I am struggling with this duty of care, I am not that incompetent."  
Molly handed him Rosie carefully and then gave him the bottle when she was safely in his arms. Molly smiled at the sight of Sherlock holding a baby and thought, _I would love to have a baby with Sher- the right man. That'll never happen now, will it_ , she mentally corrected herself sadly. For the past few months she had pretended to have finally gotten over Sherlock and after a while, she had somehow managed to convince him as well as try to convince herself. Over the next couple of hours, Molly taught Sherlock the basics of looking after an infant.  
"Thank you for helping me. I didn't want to ruin John's night." Sherlock said, "Actually, I think John is just waiting for a phone call to have an excuse to go home."  
Molly smiled, "Fair enough," She glanced at the baby girl in her arms who was looking back at her with wide eyes. "How old is she now?"  
"Nearly one years old."  
"She's beautiful," Molly smiled at the baby who was starting to fall asleep. "I'll put her in her cot." She said as she left to go to John's bedroom. Sherlock sat down on the sofa and picked up his book. He was only a few pages in when he heard Molly quietly singing.

"Lavender's blue, dilly, dilly, lavender's green  
When I am king, dilly, dilly, You shall be queen  
Who told you so, dilly, dilly, who told you so?  
'Twas my own heart, dilly, dilly, that told me so"

Sherlock swore he knew that singing voice from somewhere years ago. Molly sounded a lot like a girl he knew from when he was young. If he remembered correctly, Margret was her name.


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry for such a late update, I've had some serious writers block for this one. Also, sorry for how short it is too, but I hope you like what I've got so far

* * *

A fifteen year old Sherlock was hunched over his desk, a frown on his face as he gave his full attention to studying the life that was magnified on a plate, when he heard the voice of a young girl singing. Sherlock wasn't one to listen to music other than classical (he didn't need that sort of top of the pops rubbish taking up precious space in his mind palace) but he knew the song. His grandmother used to sing it whilst she would potter about in the garden. It drove him half mad, but after a few years, the song grew on him. He sighed and looked out the window to see a girl of twelve, maybe thirteen years old strolling down the country road with a rough collie calmly trotting next to her. Her hands in her pockets, she ambled absent mindedly through the front gate a stopped in front of the door. Noticing the boy at the window, the girl gave a cheery smile and waved. Sherlock groaned, his parents weren't home yet and it looked as if he had no choice but to answer the door. Stomping down the stairs, he yanked the door open. The girl beamed again, _does she ever stop smiling?_ , Sherlock wondered. Her long, mousy hair was in a single braid down her back and friendly brown eyes. She held out her hand,

"Hello," she grinned, flashing chunky braces at him, "I'm Margaret."/p  
Sherlock looked at her outstretched hand for a moment before briefly shaking it reluctantly, "Sherlock Holmes."  
Margret stopped smiling for a moment, slightly taken aback at the hostility, "I'm thirteen-" she began as she tried to diffuse the awkward tension, but Sherlock interrupted her before she could carry on.  
"I know." he replied monotonously,"You're also an only child judging by your keenness to make friends and have someone other than your dog and parents to keep you company, you've just moved next door, you're naively optimistic about life, therefore clearly you have had a very sheltered one, you have a pet cat judging from the ginger hairs on your cardigan, you bite your nails when you're nervous, which to be honest, is a rather horrid habit as underneath fingernails is a bacterial breeding ground-" Sherlock stopped as he felt a wet lick on his hand. Sherlock grimaced and Margret laughed,  
"She likes you!"  
"He felt a pang in his heart as he looked down at the dog, "I used to have a dog." he said quietly, "He died a while ago."  
Margret opened her mouth to speak but then abruptly shut it. They were silent for a spell before Margret said quietly, "I'm sorry. What was his name?"  
"He was called Redbeard." he said mournfully. Sherlock frowned, _Pull yourself together_ , he thought. Composing himself, he said rather coldly, "Don't you have other things to do?"  
Margret shrugged, "Not really. Why?"  
Sherlock folded his arms, "I'm busy. I don't have time for company, which you were clearly searching for. Go walk your dog or something, I have to get back to something. No one else is home so there's no point in staying any longer."  
Margret looked crestfallen, "Oh, okay then. Maybe I'll see you around sometime."  
"Most likely," Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Goodbye." he said as he closed the door. Margret had only just enough time to say goodbye when the door shut in her face.  
"Come on then Lassie," she said to her dog, "We'd best be on our way." she strolled out the gate and back towards her own home, "What a strange boy, don't you think?" she commented

Mr and Mrs Holmes returned later than Sherlock had expected. Not that he had minded at all, it had given him extra time of peace and quiet without his mother coddling him. As they sat around the dinner table having their tea, Mrs Holmes commented,  
"That Hooper family are so lovely."  
Sherlock's father nodded in agreement, "Delightful people, and their daughter, what is her name again?"  
"Margret." Sherlock replied, "I met her earlier today."  
His parents looked at each other and laughed, "We should have guessed that you were the weird boy she was talking about to her cat." his mother chuckled. She grew serious, "Sherlock," she began cautiously, she hadn't breached the subject of making friends for quite a long time, she had not spoken about him making friends since, well, you know what happened.  
Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I don't need friends." he huffed, "I am perfectly fine on my own."  
His parents glanced at each other and dropped the subject. There was silence at the table for the rest of their meal. 


End file.
